


The truth of your soul

by Archangel06



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Cara Dune will kill you if you so much look at her favourite gay Mandalorian friend wrong, Dom/Sub kink, M/M, Migs Mayfeld being Migs Mayfeld, Migs Mayfeld is an ass and we love him because of this, Oral Sex, Pining, Rough Sex, Slapping, Soulmates, Top Din Djarin, Unrequited Love, bottom Migs Mayfeld, breaking of the fourth wall, no beta reading, no real plot, plot what plot it's porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:14:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29537358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archangel06/pseuds/Archangel06
Summary: And so, as soon as we were in hyperspace and thus unreachable, he pivoted his pilot chair towards me. I gulped, suddenly realising that I was stuck for two days in hyperspace with a pissed off man-shaped war machine that had already handed me my ass once.What can I say? I’m not an intelligent man. Or rather- I’m not stupid, per se, I’m just very unwise.There are many unnerving sights in the galaxy: the t-visor of a Mandalorian helmet slowly homing on your face is pretty high on the list.***Or that time that Migs Mayfeld couldn't keep his mouth shut and got way more than he bargained for.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Cobb Vanth, Din Djarin/Migs Mayfeld
Comments: 4
Kudos: 39





	The truth of your soul

I landed heavily on the mattress, with Mando on top of me. He was kissing me avidly, rutting against my hips and growling.

***

_Record scratch, holo frame freeze._

_You’ll probably be wondering how I got myself into this situation… well, gather ‘round, kids, and Uncle Migs will tell you. To the immense surprise of exactly no one, it was because of my big mouth._

_Yeah, so strange, right? Never ever happened before in the whole history of the Galaxy that Migs Mayfeld got in trouble by talking too much- well, not that this was exactly trouble, per se. I mean, I’m perfectly fine with being manhandled by Mando. Anytime, bud. Still hard to appreciate fully that this particular Mandalorian war machine is a big softie with a heart of gold and possessed of the sweetest puppy eyes of the galaxy. Totally unfair, if you ask me. I mean, does the man even has flaws? He’s a zealously devoted parent, a fearsome warrior, he’s beautiful - oh wait, I’m rambling again. Sorry._

_Ahem. As I was saying, you’ll probably be wondering, how in the galaxy did you manage to get Mando (what’s his name, anyway, he never told me?) to have sex with you? Or for that matter, to want it enough that he’s acting on it? Oh, and WHY IS HE HELMETLESS?? WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM, MIGS MAYFELD?_

_Hold your banthas, people... the guy already has a guardian angel, in the form of one Marshal Cara Dune, terrifying former shock trooper who will turn my skin into a pair of boots if I so much look at her precious favourite gay Mandalorian friend wrong. Also also, actually actually, believe me that he doesn’t need one, the man can handle himself fine and dandy. But before you decide to turn me into a wheel of holed bantha cheese with blaster fire, I agree that it’s totally my fault that he has no helmet. I chickened out on Morak and that’s… not something I am proud of. What, you are surprised? People can change, you know. I had lots of time to think while I was in prison, and then when Cara Dune elected to let me go on Morak._   
_I teased him, telling him that we weren’t so different after all, because he was ready to sacrifice his precious Mandalorian code to get what he wanted… but I was wrong. So, so wrong. Mando had been ready to sacrifice his entire way of life to save a child, not to gain some selfish advantage. He had done what was right and not what was easy… to someone like me, that’s not always… obvious. I have to admit, Mando is someone who normally would be totally out of my league: honourable, heroic, selfless, respected by his people… did I mention that apparently he’s a kriffin’ King? I’m just a lowlife ex-Imp criminal who has to play dead very convincingly- would be hard to find someone more out of my league if I tried. Let’s be honest, he’s basically an entirely different order of being, when compared to me._   
_Anyway, the guy went through a pretty deep crisis of faith. From what he told me, he hadn’t shown his face in some 22 years! Can you believe it? 22 years without any literal human contact! So, after Morak I thought that he wouldn’t want to see me ever again. I was dead after all, and he would probably want to forget that I had seen his face. Also, he had the baby to think of. I must admit that, no matter how attractive and silvery tongued I may be, a baby will always beat me._

_I thought I would never see him again, but one day he just popped up, as he’s wont to do, saying that a friend of his was hiring._

_“He’s the leader of the Guild on Nevarro. Some hunters have felt cheated on bounties lately and have become unruly.”_

_A bodyguard gig sounded nice. The pay was decent, definitely enough to be able to rent a small apartment: a room would have been cheaper, but hey, complete privacy is a great luxury in my book. It wasn’t until we were in space that the situation started._

_I am an asshole, I admit it freely. Never pretended that I wasn’t. I started teasing him, calling him “brown eyes” just to get under his skin a bit. I tried to make him uneasy by walking around naked: he had to be uncomfortable around nudity, if for 22 years he never had been touched. I wanted to crack that hard, smooth exterior that he presented to the world, I wanted to see more of that softness that was inside… the only thing I managed to do was to get him angry. Very, very angry. I know, ok? I am as mature as a schoolkid who doesn’t know how to deal with the fact that he likes his classmate and pulls her ponytail. Please please please don’t tell Marshal Dune or she’ll kill me. Please. I have already been thoroughly punished for forgetting that this particular classmate is not a timid schoolchild that will go cry to mommy, but one of the most coriaceous sons of a bitch of the whole galaxy._

_So, I went too far with my teasing: after we jumped in hyperspace he kinda… snapped? No, not exactly. I think that I had already gone too far by that point. At first, he was always bristling, but after the fourth or fifth instance, he kinda stared at me, and stopped reacting. I think he knew what I was trying to do, and had already decided to punish me if his lack of reaction to my harassment didn’t stop me._

_And so, as soon as we were in hyperspace and thus unreachable, he pivoted his pilot chair towards me. I gulped, suddenly realising that I was going to be stuck for two days in hyperspace with a pissed off man-shaped war machine that had already handed me my ass once._

_What can I say? I’m not an intelligent man. Or rather- I’m not stupid, per se, I’m just very unwise._

_There are many unnerving sights in the galaxy: the t-visor of a Mandalorian helmet slowly homing on your face is pretty high on the list._

***

Mando stood, and with a single, smooth movement reached me, grabbed my shirt with both hands and hauled me bodily out of my seat, slamming me against the wall and holding me there.

“Now” he growled “don’t think that I don’t know what you were doing, Migs Mayfeld. You were trying to reach my soft spots, weren’t you?”

I tried my best winning smile, hoping to be able to get away from it with only a couple of broken bones. Dank farrik, I could feel the heat of him even through the flightsuit. Was this why he had actually taken off the armour before the jump? “Maybe I wanted to seduce you. Just a little bit. And see your soft spots” I admitted. Being pinned to the wall like that was starting to make me feel lightheaded: blood was going southward, rather than to my brain. 

“Is that so?” stars, I could practically _hear_ the grin on his face. “Well then, didn’t mommy teach you to be careful with what you wish for, because you could actually get it?” one of his hands went to the helmet.

_Holy shit is he actually-_

He was.

There was nothing soft on his face, though. The last time I had seen it, it had been tender and sweet with worry and fear- this time, it was as hard as stone, creased in anger. There was no tenderness in the kiss he imposed on my mouth, either- but I honestly didn’t mind at that point.

I had gotten what I wanted, and even if it wasn’t exactly how I wanted it… who cared?

“I hope for you that you’ll be fine with what’s about to happen, because this is all you are going to get from me” he growled, before sneaking one hand to squeeze between my legs- crap, I was getting hard already. He rubbed his hand over my cock. "I'm going yo fuck you, Migs Mayfeld, and you are going to _like_ it." 

***

_Yes, rough sex and being dominated is a kink of mine. Problems? No? ok, let’s continue with the story. Stop interrupting._

***

He grabbed me by the scruff of the neck, like an unruly massif pup, and forced me down on my knees. I can’t even begin tell you what kind of sound I made at _that_.

“Oho, you actually like this” he mused, patting me on the head. “Now be a good boy, Mayfeld, and open wide…”

He unzipped the flightsuit, and dug out his hard cock. It wasn’t too big, thanks the stars- would probably manage to get a decent amount of it in without choking. He pushed it in my mouth with very little ceremony.

“ _Kriff!_ ” he moaned, and fuck, it was _erotic_. His head was thrown back, and he had one hand over my head, his gloved fingertips digging in my scalp- not for the first time, I wished I still had hair that he could grab and pull. I started sucking earnestly- I wanted to please him, I wanted to earn my forgiveness for being an absolute bitch. I might have made some flippant remark, just to save my own pride but… it’s rude to talk with your mouth full, you know.

The sounds he started making were absolutely worth it. I had expected a… different approach to sex, honestly- colder? More calculated? Something similar to the way he fought. Instead he was fucking my mouth, groaning, completely lost. His hand travelled down to my face, while he balanced himself against the wall with the other: his fingers grazed my lips, and I let him go for a moment before starting to work my magic on his tip. It was heavy and full in my mouth, slightly salty: his musk was really strong, and it was making my mind spin. It was impossible to resist that smell. 

“Kriff, Mayfeld, your _mouth_ ” he moaned. He was leaking.

“Wanna cum in it?” I panted, as I started taking care of myself. A hard slap on my cheek made me yelp.

“None of _that_ ” he growled, grabbing again me by the shirt and pinning me again to the wall, effortlessly. Kriff, he was strong. I’m not exactly a twig, you know. “You cum when _I_ say so. And that will be with my cock deep in your ass. Is that clear?” his face was mere inches from mine, his teeth bared. I had just to lean forward to be able to kiss him. But I wouldn’t.

I nodded, weakly. My face stung, but I was more aroused than I had ever been in my whole life.

“I can’t hear you.” The grip on my shirt tightened.

“Y- yes” I panted, and again he grinned. Oh stars, I was doomed.

“Good boy” he said, and dragged me towards the sleeping pod. I landed heavily on the mattress, with Mando on top of me. He was kissing me avidly, rutting against my hips and growling: I moaned when our cocks rubbed together- stars, it was _maddening_. He forced my legs open with his knee while pinning my wrists down.

“Please Mando…” I moaned.

“So impatient” he tsked, and the hot breath in my ear sent a shiver down my spine that made him chuckle. “Mh, I wonder what happens if I do _this_ …”

An extremely undignified squeal happened, that’s what- you try to stay silent when the man from your dreams is tongue-fucking your ear. And guess what? More of it when said man of your dreams starts licking down your kriffing neck and then decides to leave the mother of all hickeys on it. Did I mention than while this was happening, he was actually caressing me with those gloved hands (kriff, what would I have given to be touched with bare hands), lifting my shirt and lowering my trousers? Yeah, I was a hot mess. A quivering, begging mess. What can I say? It had been a while, and he was just… so imposing. 

“Dank farrik, you’re so hot” he growled, biting down on the exact spot where he had just left a huge hickey while pinching my nipple- I jumped.

“ _Please!!_ ” I sobbed, trying desperately to rut against him, to get at least _some_ relief with friction- but he lifted up, the asshole, sitting on his heels and lazily wanking himself.

“Look at you… all flustered and needy” he grinned, as I contorted under his gaze. “What do you want, Mayfeld?”

“I…” I had to lick my lips; they were so dry… “I want… you.” I didn’t want to say it out loud. I couldn’t. I hadn’t wanted it like this, I had wanted it playful and light. But I had played with fire and something just... cracked, I guess, in my brain. I wanted him, I wanted everything that he could give me and more, I wanted to be worthy of seeing those soft spots, to be regarded with the heart melting tenderness that his brown eyes could express.  
  
I could say no and he would stop, I knew it. But he knew that I wouldn’t. He grinned, the bastard.

“That’s not how it works, sweetie” he said. “I want you to say it, nice and loud, and to _beg_ for it.”

“Just do it-”

“Not quite there” he said, ghosting with his gloved fingertips on my butt crack. I hissed. No help for it.

“Please Mando… fuck me” I said, and with that, he had me. Completely. Even more than he had me when he was pinning me down to the wall. It had begun like a game on my part, but I had played with fire and I had burned myself.

“Strip.” What else could I do but obey? As I did so, he leaned to the side and pushed open a compartment, from which he fished a tube- thank the stars that at least he wanted to do this with lube and not dry. But I would have taken him anyway. I couldn’t refuse. He had me.

He turned back on me, and I felt so goddamn _vulnerable_. It was more than mere nudity- it was the fact that I had completely surrendered to his control. I had begged him to make me his, and I knew that I would let him do anything. Would he hurt me? I would let him do that, too. He must have known. He smiled- it wasn’t a grin full of mischief, it was a smile. Genuine. Was it there a hint of sadness? I couldn’t say.

“Good boy, Migs” he said, and gently patted my cheek. Kriff, he had started using my name- it wasn’t just Mayfeld. He was using my name when I had no idea what his name was, I was naked and he was still dressed, I was subdued and he was on top. “I’ll make this good for you, I promise. Now lay back and spread your legs, be a good boy for me, mh?” he added, opening the bottle and drizzling a good amount of lube on his gloved fingers.

I did. I had to. I wanted him, desperately. I groaned when he grabbed my cock, lazily wanking me, while one slick, leather-covered finger slid inside me, gently. I bucked my hips, and as soon as the sting was gone, I started pushing back for more- and he let me. The fingers became two, then three- soon enough I was fucking myself on his hand.

“Look at you- I could have taken you raw and you’d have enjoyed it. Enough, Migs.” I keened when his fingers left me, but I didn’t have the time to complain too much, as they were soon substituted by his cock. He started pushing, barely giving me the time to adjust- he wasn’t hurting me, it was more of a reminder that he could, if he wanted, but chose not to. He didn’t need to.

Like that time on the prison ship, he could have killed me if he wanted to: but chose not to. He hadn’t needed to.

I screamed my throat raw as he slammed inside me: I arched back when he hit my sweet spot. All the while he was whispering broken praises in my ear. He had me, completely. I was his. I felt like an exotic bug pinned down in the collection of a biologist- escape was impossible.

“Come for me, Migs.” He stared me right in the eyes. The intensity of that gaze was unbearable, and yet I could not break from it. I came, with a long groan- it had been a while since I had an orgasm like that. It shook me to my core, it felt like falling from a great height, and my vision went blank.

“Good boy… good boy” panted Mando, and he came too, closing his eyes. He whispered something- a name, I think. But I was too dazed to decipher it.

***

_We didn’t talk much for what remained of the journey. We got on Nevarro, I was hired, and Mando promptly scampered to Tatooine, without bothering to inform me that Marshal Dune was in charge there. Thanks a bunch, bud, she totally didn’t follow me for a week with her eyes boring a hole where the one inch hickey you left me was._

_I’m not exactly sure why Tatooine of all places. But I think that there is someone there- someone who holds his heart. Someone who can_ see _him- and I’m not talking about simply seeing his face, although that’s a pretty big deal, I agree. I mean… someone who can actually see the entirety of what Mando is, not just the harsh exterior. Even if he had no armour or helmet when he fucked me, there is no question that he wasn’t as naked, as vulnerable as I was. I think that he showed me his face to make me understand that I would never truly_ see _him, that his soul as well as his body is encased in beskar and what lies beyond the shell is forever denied to me. I only ever managed to catch a glimpse of the truth of him- on Morak, when I saw his unguarded face and was told that the whole suicide operation was for his son. Even that glimpse was something that I shouldn’t have seen- it does feel like I kind of spied on something sacred and not meant for the likes of me._

 _I wonder… who is this paragon of virtue, who was deemed worthy to know the true face of his soul and to whisper the secret of his name? To be touched by his bare hands? To fully see that softness, to cradle it with gentle hands, to keep it, and him, safe? It’s kind of terrifying to think that there actually_ is _someone like that._

_Do I really want to know who this person is? I’m not entirely sure._

**Author's Note:**

> Holy shit, thanks for reading this to the end! 
> 
> This was meant to be something completely different (the only thing that I kind of mantained was the fact that Migs is smitten with Din, but Din doesn't return the feeling), but of course stories will do what they want, so here we are. Also, writing with a cat that keeps walking on your keyboard is hard, people. 
> 
> Comments are very welcome!


End file.
